In Search of Her Spotlight
by PicturedArtist
Summary: Companion Story to Passion at Center Stage. Adrien's POV. RomCom. Adrien meets the talented girl, Marinette, and they take on the adventure to reclaim the destiny that has been laid out for them. Slow Burn.


There wasn't anything that felt off on that day in particular. If I had know where'd it lead me, I'd kick less and screamed more. The secretary that my father had hired to follow me around and take charge of my everyday activities, called out to me when I walked in the door. My five o'clock was waiting for me in my room? It was unorthodox for someone to be waiting for me in my bedroom. It wasn't impossible though.

Natalie, the secretary, had been sending stern old people who had problems with my hobbies to talk to me. What Natalie had against the art of recreating and acting the great people of the country was beyond the Great Gods of Art. By great people I meant anime characters. By country I meant fantasy world. And Great Gods of Art? I meant some murmuring guys that skitter around when light shined on them from their mother's basement.

When I reached my bedroom, the door was slightly ajar. There was a man about the height of my father with scraggly black hair. He was scratching his head with one elongated finger and looking around my room with an occasional look towards the giant window that overlooked Paris. I called it my stage...people could see how amazing I was if they only looked.

I couldn't just stand in the hallway. Sailor Moon would be disappointed in the lack of justice. Well, not really justice-he was escorted there. He didn't break in and so far wasn't hurting anybody. More like-don't be a creep in the hallway, Adrien.

"Excuse me?" I pushed my door further open and walked through with all the regalness of a wet cat. The black haired man's attention gravitated towards me and never left my orbit. His eyes were piercing green. Sharp and aggressive. Any softer and I would call them mysterious.

"Ah." The man's voice was a honeyed. When he faced me I was able to get a good look at his wardrobe. It was fairly modern with a touch of old-as-hell. Who tucks in their shirt anymore? He was wearing my father's brand of slim fit black slacks with a black button up neatly packed in every place but one in the belt.

"I'm sorry," the words came out mechanically. Was I sorry? No. Should I have been? Also no. I had no reason to be. Even if I had noticed it, it was only 4:45 and thus, he was early. "When I checked my schedule this morning and I didn't catch that I had a scheduled five o'clock." It was very common for me to overlook meetings when they looked completely boring.

"Freedom." He turned to me. "You want it?"

Freedom? It's not like I'm being weighed down. Sure, I have a lot of responsibilities but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. I'm used to long hours and the tiny meals didn't bother me. I had freedom. On my off-time, I went to a local bakery for the occasional snack. The middle aged woman who would cash my purchase was sweeter than the desserts her husband made. The days I was able to ditch my pack of watch dogs to slip away to the small bakery on the corner was definitely treasured ones.

"What if I said it'd be in a place of magic?" He continued. Okay, now, I'm sure Natalie is trying different ways to get to the destruction of my hobby. It was definitely a reverse psychology and I was not going to fall for it. I am above pretending only to prove a point. Sure I was special but I wasn't some secret magical girl who was going to fall for a knight in shining armor.

"I'm in." I 'played' along. I didn't want Natalie to think I caught on to her. This attempt sounds like fun. If I thwart the plan now, she'll only send some new guy with wiry gray hair and a back so curved that all he saw was his knees. He scrounged around in his pocket till he found a small red rectangle. He examined it for a moment then held it out by his fingertips.

"Tikki?" The card up close had black polka dots on a red background. In each dot was another little bit of information. The lettering was white and in a tiny script. It was very professional in a playful way. Completely unusual kind of pattern for a guy...but who was I to judge. "Well, Mr. Tikki, when do I start?"

Mr. Tikki tensed up like a cat with his hair on edge. "First off, Tikki is my partner in the business." That makes a little more sense, yea. "Secondly, you're never allowed to take this off." The now-again nameless man handed me a black mask. The leather was cool in my hands and was also on the older side. Every hero needs a secret identity! It was on in a heartbeat. There was clips on both sides that were covered by a long black sash. No matter how fast I moved, it was going to stay stationary.

"Call me…" Name. Name, name, name. "Mr…" Don't be lame. Give yourself a good name. Black mask...nine times out of ten that means black costumes too. "...Black. Mr. Black." You did it. You nailed it.

"Try," his voice was peaked in amusement. "Chat Noir."

* * *

"Welcome back, Plagg! Is this your new project?" I walked through the threashold of the bar in time to see a girl who was bouncing over. She had short pixie cut hair and rich blue eyes. In her arms she was holding a pile of black clothing. Totally called it. Black uniform. Her eyes were measuring me up and down, occasionally stopping at the mask.

"Nah, picked him up for you." Plagg (an even more unusual name than Tikki would have been) smiled down at (presumably)Tikki. Partner in the business is probably the least of their relationship. Plagg collected the clothes and handed them to me. Plagg and Tikki talked between themselves while I ditched the uglier pieces of black clothing. Knit sweater vest? Gone. Skater pants with green belt? Gone. Oh, a crop top. Mine. Black booty shorts with a paw print on the left cheek? Maybe later.

They all had something in common, as all superhero clothing does, hidden in different places. Gold trim on some with green paw prints embroidered on others. I continued picking through them til I found a match to the crop top. It had a gold zipper leading up to a large bell around the neck for the pull of the zipper. The bottoms were much more limited but simple skinny jeans have always been my go to. The seams were stitched in green and a tiny version of the bell on the top was hanging from a belt loop by a chain.

The shoe choices were sad. A pair of sneakers, a pair of loafers, and a pair of 4.5 inch heels with little ears and whiskers on the toes. None of them really matched up to the outfit. Sneakers would be comfortable but clunky next to skinny jeans. Loafers were too formal for the crop top. The heels would make my legs look great, but, who can walk in those things.

"Last cat you dragged in was a piece of work. What's special about this one?" The girl's voice had been continuing on this whole time but I only caught on that they were still talking about me. The tension thickened. My only option was to continue to pretend not to be in the room.

"How was I supposed to know he was going to fall in love with your Ladybug?" Plagg seemed to grow irritated with every word. The conversation seemed like it was a long time coming. Better let them get it out of their system. "Give him a minute T. When you see what he can do…" See what I can do? Does Plagg want me to model these clothes for him? Was he a fan of my model work?

"I told you...we need someone who'd last a little bit. Being without any main attractions is hurting us." That's fair enough. It's like going to see a singer on stage and all you get is the opening acts and never reach the person you came to see.

"He'll be here awhile...he's searching for his liberation." What does that matter to either of you? That magic spiel was a load of crap meant to get me here. In the reflection of the bell I saw the small redhead roll her eyes. "It's better than the girl you picked up weeks ago! What was she looking for again? Courage? She'll be gone in a heartbeat."

" _Plagg_...not _now_." The words were gritted through her teeth. Plagg was just dumb enough to continue.

"She isn't even on stage!" So they found someone who won't go on stage? That seems counterproductive.

"PLAGG!" Tikki was finally able to hush him. Why did she silence him now for talking about a girl but not when they were talking about me? I was right there!

"I can make you something if you haven't found what you're looking for." A girl not much taller than Tikki was sitting at the bar with a bright pink sketchbook stretched between her shadowed elbows and a pencil pinched between two long fingers.

I felt compelled to walk over to her. When I got closer it was evident that she had earbuds in. A MP3 was hidden under one of her many sketches. The design was familiar. There were showgirl dresses of red and male street clothing of black. The girl took one earbud out and turned to a new sheet. She looked up at me expectantly as if waiting for further instructions. "Did you make all of these?"

"Yea." Her expression told anyone in the room that she was in a rut. She couldn't put to paper what she wanted to tell the world. Her art form was at a halt. "My name is Marinette. I am the costume designer here."

Marinette. It was such a pretty name.

 _Marinette._ A pretty name for a talented girl.

 _ **Marinette**_. Her name felt smooth and just fell off the tongue.

Marinette was wearing a black jacket with a simple white shirt under it. Humble for a designer. Her eyes were a calm ocean blue. What would the world be like if she was to smile? "Yea, can you do shoes?"

In response, I got a look of irritation at the thought she couldn't bring a whole outfit together. I pulled a stool next to her and laid the clothes beside me. She probably made those too. "What about boots?"

"Boots?" I got her interested.

"Yea like sleek but bulky in some areas." Nice one, hot shot model. You sure do know how to describe footwear. You only hear 2,000 speeches on how important the proper footwear is every two minutes from your father.

"You mean, like riding boots?" Marinette's voice was careful not to correct but to suggest. Her pencil was dancing across the paper as they spoke. In less than a minute, she had an outline for a plain riding boot. It was tall and looked like it would go over the knee.

"Yea, but like shorter." I pointed to the height of my mid calf. No matter what they wanted me to do, I couldn't do it in restricted footwear. "And like-a belt here!"

"I can do better." Marinette's lips curled at the corners. She took every word as a challenge and laughter was pouring out of her as we battled for the best addition to the design. She drew a paw print on the bottom of the sole. "Kitty beans!" She won instantly.

When she turned to look at me, there was something about her. Her eyes glistened with happiness and her cheeks were rosy as all get out. I don't know if it was the lighting or the way that smile fit perfectly on her face. She wasn't in armor-and officially not a knight-but by God she was shining.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Hi guys! This is a side story/companion story to Passion at Center Stage. This time in first person with some comedy in it. I'm sorry if it is a little rough of a read, I haven't found the right BETA yet. If you'd be interested in proof-reading and/or giving me suggestions, feel free to PM me here or on my tumblr! Hope you guys enjoyed!_**


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